Our Story
by Phantom Syren
Summary: What was it like growing up in an orphanage that made you so cold, loyal, and killers? What's your story? All you had when you were younger was one another. Tell me, leader and killers of Iscariot, what made you what you are today.-Pls R&R summaries r bad
1. Chapter 1

_**In The End, It Doesn't Even Matter…..**_

_When he knew he was gonna die, the fear in his eyes was like that once when he was a wee bit of nothin'. This was maybe one of the hundreds of time ah saw that panicked look, but after his goals were set, this was the last time ah saw that expression. When that little nun died, 'er expression was no longer Yumie, but Yumiko. How could Yumiko understand that, except understand the risks that she had been taking all along? Heinkel, so head strong and stubborn. What about 'er? She had changed to be as devil tempered as Yumie….._

This is the story, or stories, as we put it, of how these three came to be, how they ended. Some rose slowly as well as they died. Others changed in split seconds or phases, and thank God that is how they fell, but what exactly made them the way they were? What were they like when they where younger than yourself? Greed, power, and memories are hard things to harbor. They'll fester and turn you sour if you hold onto them for longer than you should…

**(****Note to Reader:**** Bare with me, my knowledge on these characters might be slightly off, but I am just doing a summary of all three points of view until all three points of view come together, so it might or will seem extremely fast on this part or not fully covered. I advise you use your imagination to 'fill in all the holes.')**

**-Heinkels' Story-**

A small flying fist came right towards her, and she did not cringe as it smacked her right in the mouth, throwing her to the ground. She was far to depressed to even think about anything else or make any motion to defend herself. But what was it over again?

Ah yes; she pushed this boy, her same age of seven, away from a little girl who was quite coy, and was attempting to play with her dolls in solitude. He was trying to smash the head of one of the dolls and the little one screeched out like an owl at him when he was about to stomp on her doll, but Heinkel shoved him away before he could. How good of her, but this was also her first day here. If this place was like the last one she was in, it was going to be hell all over again.

"James!" the boy wheeled around on his heel in terror. The volume of the voice used even made Heinkel's heart jump and skip a beat. "Wat did ya dou this time?!"

As Heinkel looked up at this man, he stood in front of the sun, and gave a disappointing glare at this boy. He was not from here. He did not dress like the men and women that brought the children to these new houses to live in or also known as orphanages. He did not dress in a suite, but…. Preist? Why here?

Heinkel kept to herself, slowly standing to wipe the blood from her split lip, also rubbing her elbows and the palms of her hands. The impact on the hard ground made them sore, and her long hair might have been messier than what it was when she first got here. While attending to herself, she did not take noticed of what this priest was talking to this boy about, and so she simply started to walk away in the other direction, away from the scene.

"Pardon me," came that booming voice again and little Heinkel turned to look at him. He held a smile. It was a simple but kind one to her before his gaze went to the little boy at his side. "James," he warned with a different tone.

The child known as James looked to his feet, kicking at a stone shyly and stubbornly, leaning from side to side before muttering a word of apology.

Heinkel said nothing and simply nodded at his gesture. She even smiled slightly before turning and walking away. She heard the priest dismiss the boy and she thought that this man was about to run after her. She was expecting it but he didn't….. she found it a little strange, but she moved onto look for something to do. At this moment though, there was nothing to do but think.

* * *

Why was she here again? She could not remember. Did she really want to?

Some time later, months later, she did not know, she sat at a table doing really nothing but watching. She still hadn't said a thing. Not even to the adults when they asked her something. She would nod, or shake her head but that was it. She did notice that priest showing up once a week or twice a month though.

She was becoming curious of him now. He always smiled, had an awkward accent that she could not place. A good five to twelve children would rush around him, asking him to read, maybe put one of them on his shoulders. She had no idea what to think of these actions. Why was he smiling like that? How could he find joy in looking over little runts?

_Runts? I think I knew one before I started living here,_ she thought to herself one day as she watched this priest read from his bible to some children on day on a stone bench, watching them. Unexpectedly, he waved at her, and like a hounds ears perking to some alien sound she looked to him the same way.

"Come on ove' here little one," he said with that same smile. "Care to hear a story?"

She didn't move at first. She merely sat there, her knees drawn up to her chest and she twirled the tips of her hair in her fingers. She gave a slight jerk of her shoulders. She didn't know what she wanted to do until he urged her again with a wave to join them.

She slowly put one foot down on the ground. Then her other foot, slowly standing and he smiled again. She couldn't really help it at that moment. What she was trying to remember was gone for the time being. Why bother attempting to remember what she did not know? There was no reason, but his kind face, though having a scar, made her feel safe and…. loved? She still did not know, but he was a lot better than the _other man_. She rushed towards him with the first smile on her face that had not been present for such a long time.

* * *

"Heinkel, I've been tinkin.'"

"Ym teacher Anderson?"

"Yoou wouldn't mind it if ah looked over another little one besides yoou, would yoou?"

Heinkel looked a little confused at first, raising one brow at him and pulled her brush through her locks before turning to him. "Teacher Anderson, why are you asking me?" she questioned as she stood.

"Am only wonderin'," he replied with a smile on his face. "There's this boy only a yer older than ya that might be comin' here. I've talked with his parents, and they simply can't take care of 'im."

Heinkel gave a strange look at him, her young face and glow a little darkened by it. "How can a parent not take care of their own?"

**End Of POV One**

Like I said at the start: it is sort of in shambles, but trust me, 'fill in the holes yourself' at this time, and it will get better and better.


	2. Enricos' Story

_I forgot the disclaimer::_ I do not own Hellsing or anything by Kohta Hirano.

**-Enricos' Story-**

He had locked himself in his father's office again…. or rather he was put there by his father. 'Read something,' his father had told him. He agreed wisely, and pulled a thick book from one of the taller shelves, reading it. Like his father, Enrico enjoyed art and the symbolism behind a lot of it. He wanted to become an artiest like his father one day: a great artist who painted kings with fine, expensive oils.

What little Enrico did not understand was that his father's wealth was handed to him at a young age. Mr. Maxwell had painted as a hobby, knew how to manage money extremely well, and wrote a book or two on money making schemes. Enrico hadn't found those books yet, thankfully. Ignorance can be blissful but then reality will smack you one day.

This is somewhat what Enircos day was like. His nanny would take care of him, and then he would take care of himself, drawing on spare paper, reading, eating, and sleeping. This is all he did, and even at his young age he was still extremely pale like an albino but he was not. He had hardly any pigment in his skin, but then living in the heel of the boot country, where there was little heat like up north, might have also had something to do with it. Nevertheless, he would go through this daily, and once and a while, play chess against one of the servants. He won all the time and he knew they were not really trying.

His intelligence alone at this age was sharp. He was no longer reading picture books at the age of eight. He was deep into books that were thicker, his reading level that of an average seventeen year old in school, yet he never went to school. He was homeschooled and self taught mostly. His older half sister was once forced to teach him something which he already knew.

It was so uncomfortable for her and he could see that. They had the same eye color almost and nose shape, but that was it. Was it multiplication? Or Division? He could not remember, but all he could remember was how she sneered at him a few times, and looked down at him. When their father walked into the room, she looked all the more livid with him than Enrico and it was the same with his stepmother: she had the same tendency to look down at him or not at him at all. She would talk about him as if he was not there in the room with them. After last year of all this happening, he saw things differently and started to try and avoid all around him except his father. It seemed like his father loved him.

His father he could talk to. It had always been like that till recently. His father was growing distant each passing day. It surprised him slightly, but he only watched as his father went on, telling him to stay in certain places and wait and he knew that this was the last time he would do this. It had to of been because his own father did not even look at him when he told him to read again.

Strangely, little Enrico hardly reacted to this. He knew he was the son of a mistress, and he a bastard. He had no rights in this house. He was nothing in this house. He accepted it.

A servant girl came into the office. Enrico was seated in a seat before the desk, reading up on art painted by Michelangelo as his pale gaze rose to her and he held a smile.

"Good evening little master!" she said with a wave and walked over. "Your Papa wants to see you and I am going to take you to him," she said, leaning slightly on the chair. Enrico nodded and set the book aside. The servant snatched up his hand and walked him to the entrance room.

His father was standing there, his wife as well. Once she saw Enrico her dark gaze shot to the second man standing in the room and she moved away from his father. His father held a small smile at Enrico.

"Enrico, Nanny needs a breather and we are going away for a few days. Father Anderson will take care of you those days at his…. Home," he said. From his sentence, Enrico knew that this mans home was not really a home. When his son was before him, Enrico father kneeled and his stepmother flinched, looking farther away. "We'll be back for you in a few days. We will pick you up."

_How can he keep his face like a stone and lie to me? _Enirco wondered as he nodded at his father who then stood, addressing Father Anderson who had a clean shave, a scar on his left cheek running to his jaw and he's got kind green eyes.

"Aye Mr. Maxwell. Ah'll watch over 'im," Father Anderson then looked to the small Enrico. "C'mon Enrico," and he held out his hand. Enrico took it and walked with father Anderson out the door.

Though Father Anderson did not catch it, Enrico looked over his shoulder and glared a stare that made his stepmother shake when she saw it, and his father shift his weight around on his feet…. He knew they had left him. He knew they would never retrieve him from this new place. He didn't even care at the moment if he died by the hands of this man; his stare would live on if he died young……

_End Chapter II._


	3. Yumiko's Story

_disclaimer::_ I do not own Hellsing or anything by Kohta Hirano.

**(Note to Readers: This point of view might be long. Expect at least two chapters in this point of view and thanks for reading. Enjoy!)**

**-Yumikos' Story-**

She awoke suddenly in the middle of the garden of her home….. How did _that_ happen? She was once asleep in her home, her mother tucking her in and the waxing moon was high in the sky over the Japanese countryside. Now the sun was rising, and Yumiko picked herself up off the ground. These nightly strolls without her remembering anything or little at all was common suddenly now within the last year. Her mother thought that she was just distressed and subscribed praying to the ancestors of the family when stressed. Yumiko tried again and every time she lost her memory and wandered off, forgetting where she was or what she was about to do. Many times, Yumiko just wanted to rip her hair out from the sheer anxiety of not remembering what the hell happened only moments ago.

That was so frustrating. Aside from memory loss and wandering, her position as 'top of her class' had diminished drastically to near the bottom of the class. What a disgrace to her family! How could this all happen? When she was six years old she was planning on being a historian. Now at the age of seven, and forgetting all the things that she did and waking up in strange places, everything was going down the drain and everything had changed because of it. The people in the village didn't really talk to her mother and father now as well as her grade point average plummeting. All hopes seemed on their one and only child.

_I should try another time talking to my ancestors. I need to become a warrior again,_ she thought. She wanted to fight for her honor as a member of the Takagi family.

Like many Japanese families, the Takagi family had a rich history; the richest was nearly six centuries ago. General Takagi's wife, Yumie Takagi, took up her husband's sword and led a charge on invaders from the mainland, seeking to claim land. A woman taking up a sword, a samurai's sword, was a disgrace. The people of that time said that her ancestors were displeased with her and punished her so by the horrors she witnessed, making her crazy and they had to banish her from the village. Her own son did not object the banishment his mother now faced. Her soul was forever spotted with bad luck and anger, and she did not act as she use to from it. The positive personality was diminished to nothing. Even now, the Takagi family feared Yumie Takagi's last words: *_Modori masu._

Whoever promised that every Japanese family's history was to be all positive? There is no family on the face of this earth that has a one-hundred percent positive or clean history. Yumiko was about to learn this.

She made her way back to the family shrine, pushing open the sliding door and entering. The room was perfumed with incense, oils and such things and old samurai armor, photos, and artifacts lined the walls. Many men of the Takagi family were samurai, and it was such an honor to be one. Yumiko found her power in this, her will and motivation to move on and try. At the far end was one of the oldest and most complete sets of armor. It was black in color with a clean white mask as well as white cloth that matched for underneath the armor. The katana was flawless, not a scratch in the blade nor a nick.

Ancestor Yatsumiko. The great-grandson of Yumie Takagi. Even at a small age, this ancestor seemed to draw her in, and she advanced willingly for every prayer she had, willingly telling Yatsumiko everything of her day and troubles. She was so drawn to this ancestor that her father gave her the honor to clean the armor and swords once a year with clove oil. Other than that, she was not allowed to lay a finger on anything as a sign of respect and honor to the dead.

Yumiko's mother had gone looking for her, finding her here, kneeling before the black armor, incense lit and praying.

"Yumiko, have you seen your father?" she asked her when Yumiko stood, bowed and took five steps back and away from the armor.

"No mother, I haven't seen papa," she turned when saying this and her mother calm face twisted into horror. "Mama?" Yumiko asked.

"Ya—Yumiko! What have you done?!"

* * *

It happened again, but strangely during the day. Yumiko blacked out, but this time was not lying on the ground; she stood quite tall, posed and almost proud, but her mother was not there like she was a moment ago. Her mother was out of her view.

"Mama?" she asked, still holding her pose. "Mom? Where are you? What happened? Did I do something bad?"

Silence. Not even the bell-crickets were heard, nor the morning doves like what seemed moments ago for Yumiko.

Once more, Yumiko asked,_ "Mother?" _in a small and powerless voice. She dropped her hands to her side, and something also fell, making a _'clink!' _on the hard dirt floor. She looked down, noticing that a katana was on the ground. She found it awkward, but then saw dark liquid slowly running by the sheathed sword, making a dark river there on the hard dirt.

_That can't be oil, can it?_ she asked herself. _And the katana: it's black. Could it be?..._ she turned to look at her ancestors armor. Yes. The katana was missing, but then it was right there on the ground, next to her by the dark little rivers that were slowly running by her.

Almost drunk-like, little Yumiko made her way out the open door, down a cobble stone path, and into her home. "Father?" she asked, looking around. "Where are you two hiding?" she asked.

There was still dead silence as Yumiko made her way to her mother and father's room, sliding open the door and horror took her little soul as she saw herself in the mirror at the far end of the bedroom. Her face was covered in crimson. She ran into the room, screaming, spinning around and running her small hands over her face and body to check if she had somehow fallen, causing a gash to form on herself thus all the blood, thinking she had not yet felt the pain that would normally come. Her hands ran down her back, and she found the blood wet and fresh. None of this was her own, and she knew it but denied it.

_You can't escape the truth: I'm here to stay innocent personality,_ something whispered in her mind, but she ignored it, the panic she was experiencing was far too great to hear it fully.

Her eyes went wide with panic as she looked to the mirror again, noticing that her face again, but compared to the wet blood on her back and now hands, it was crusty. It was dry. She was screaming as she ran from that room to check all the other rooms for her mother and father, screaming for them. Calling for them. A trace of them would have been satisfactory, but she found nothing in her home. Nothing… She could hear nothing.

_End Chapter III._

* I'll come back....

_Yatsumiko:_ I randomly came up with this name so there are no origins what-so-ever. :-)


	4. Yumiko's Story II

**-Yumiko's Story. Part II-**

She sat with her arms strapped over her tiny chest. She woke up in a straight jacket, and tears streamed down her small, porcine face. The room she was in was dark and padded with a florescent light above, but protected behind metal bars and plastic. She slowly started to stop her tears as she counted the dead flies in the light, and maybe two that pounced around fiercely in an attempt to escape.

Why could she relate herself to those flies? She had no idea why she was here. The big policeman said she had killed her mother and father, but there was no way she could recall. She remembered nothing what-so-ever of what happened weeks ago, and what happened minutes ago.

"I was in my room… with my doctor," she spoke to herself and half rocked back and forth. "In my room with my doctor." She tucked her knees up to her chest, the strap that connected the back of the jacket to the front that was positioned between the legs of the person made this position slightly painful, but she got over it. "I must remember. I must remember." It then dawned on her and she looked to the door with the small window in it, kick dents there near her height. "I can't remember." Tears started to stream down her face again, but she did not cry out. She knew she was here for a reason, but what? What had she done now?

This place was making her crazy.

* * *

It felt like hours later, and she heard her doctor's voice as well as a new one coming at her down the hall. That white hall that played happy music overhead that thoroughly annoyed a part of her to where she wanted to strangle the bastard that had decided on _that particular_ radio station. They spoke in English, or her doctor did in broken English. She recalled what she had learned in school, and could at least understand that this man wanted to see her. She scooted as close as she could to the door, listening in.

"It's something ah can understand. She'll be well in mah capable hands," the stranger said.

"Den don't say ya din't warn yu," she heard her doctor say. "And as requested, 'ere is deh most recent tape of our season."

There was then clicking at the huge metal door, but then it stopped. "Juust one questton." Yumiko did not hear the stranger reply so she assumed that he nodded as her doctor continued. "Hoow is it yu plan oonn 'elping hheer? Medication dosen't woorkk well ore at all on tis one."

"Oh, ah have a way," the stranger answered and the door opened. Yumiko was laying on her side, her bangs as well as other strands of hair sticking to her face and neck, thanks to her crying. She saw two pairs of legs in front of her; the kaki material and shade of her doctors' legs, and then black. The pair of legs with black pants on had shiny shoes. Not overly polished or shined, but looked tasteful.

She gazed upward. She knew only some English and this was the only way she could really understand them, though not reply clearly. It seemed like they stood there for hours, and the stranger took bold steps forward, and she blacked out again.

_End Chaptr IV._

* * *

Sorry of the shortness here. Go to the next chaper and thanks for reading!


	5. From The Other Side

_disclaimer::_ I do not own Hellsing or anything by Kohta Hirano.

**-From the Other Side-**

Both children were told to stand a ways away. They obeyed Father, Teacher Anderson without question, standing shoulder to shoulder but the girl was taller than the boy by at least a head. They listened in as Father Anderson spoke in English. Their own English was coming along, the boys faster than the girl at his side. He was book smart, while the girl needed step by step pronunciations. Anderson as well as some workers at this orphanage seemed more than happy to help both children in any way they could.

Today was a different day with a different purpose though to both children. He had taken them East to Asia to someplace in China, not far from the Chinese Sea. How he was able to do this, they did not know but both relentlessly trusted Teacher Anderson.

"Enrico, what do you think he means by _tap_?" the girl asked looking down at the boy.

He fumbled slightly, slipping one hand into his black jacket pocket, fishing out a thin, small book. "Uh, I think he means _tape_ Heinkel and I am not sure." He then put the book away and half watched. His nose was in another book that he once had tucked under his arm, again. It was not surprising.

When the huge metal door started to open, Heinkel leaned to the side, and Enrico glared out the side of his book at her because her movement shoved the book over, almost toppling out of his hands, but his book lowered when he caught sight of the child. His own eyes grew as wide as Heinkel's now.

She was innocent looking, having her round cheeks wet with tears, and big brown eyes wide with panic but her arms were not seen, thanks to those dreadful jackets they made some patients wear. But this girl did not look like she belonged here at all. She had been, so far as these children have seen, the far cry opposite of all the patients that wandered these halls, their eyes empty. Those people were shells of life but this one, this little girl who was most likely six or seven, was so full of life until she dropped her gaze suddenly to Father Andersons feet.

The girl's doctor handed Father Anderson a tape, which he tucked into his coat pocket, and took only two steps forward when that child's whole being seemed to change. With what sounded like a growl as Father Anderson took his steps forward, her gaze shot up and she was no longer innocent looking, but wild.

She had thrown herself at Father Anderson legs, attempting to bite one of them. "Damn monk!" she screamed out. "Trying to purify me again?! Bullshit!" she screamed.

Their faces paled. Father Anderson had warned the two hours ago that this child was not all the normal as she might seem, but this was shocking nevertheless. Enrico even saw Father Andersons face change slightly at the words that decided to flow from her mouth. Hell! Her English even improved dramatically! While these two where in a daze, the girl had latched her mouth on Andersons ankle, curling her body around his other leg and trashing with wild kicks in attempts to trip Father Anderson, which never occurred; his stand was too strong.

The doctors' face, as he looked to Father Anderson was as puzzled as the children. He did not react _why_? Who in their right mind would not step away or hold the child away that was attempting to gnaw into you? Some would even strike them away, but then he was not. His face didn't even change at that point; he just stood there with the little girl sinking her teeth as deep as she could into him, though after some time he did speak.

"Are ye done chewin' on me?"

Heinkels' breath got caught in her throat, and Enrico stumbled at his remark. The girl even gazed up at him and her narrowed gaze softened.

_End Chapter V._


	6. A Fresh Start

_disclaimer::_ I do not own Hellsing or anything by Kohta Hirano.

**-A Fresh Start-**

_Poor thing,_ Heinkel thought as the girl seemed to settle down, but then she started going off in Japanese or Mandarin, crying and screaming, then shoving herself away from Father Anderson, worming away on the floor. She could not understand, so she asked Enrico, who was also at a loss of words, though right then and there this girl spotted them, and shook.

"I don't!" she screamed out. "I don't remember!" her accent was horrible compared to a few minutes ago but then they could understand her English. "I couldn't hhelp et!"

Father Anderson reached down to touch her, and she squirmed even more. "Little one, its fine. Noo one blames ya," he said in English.

"I don't!" she screamed even more. Her voice was cracking with that accent, and her terror made Heinkel shake, and Enrico's gaze was so blank; almost heartless.

The girl was in a corner now, crying and shaking. Enrico shook his head and then looked down into his book after seeing this. She was nothing. She could be nothing. How could she, when she crawls away like a wounded beast? This world would eat her up and spit out her bones.

"Enrico?!" Heinkel snapped, attempting to get his attention. He only turned and started to walk away, and her jaw fell, leaving her mouth gaping open at his heartless action. Ever since she met him, ever since Father, Teacher Anderson brought him home, he was annoyingly arrogant when it came to situations such as these. Yes, nothing as intense as the drama that was presented before them at this moment was ever before them until now, but even still, it only went to show that he was a mean soul.

Heinkel wondered why, but she also wondered about herself. She could not remember much of her life at home. She decided not to so long ago and vowed to never speak of it. But this reminded her of something; the situation here. The dilemma. She had nothing till she had Father, Teacher Anderson. She was depressed and angry her first few months there at the orphanage. She did not talk to anyone, and beat up the bullies. But how the hell was she reminded of something that she left behind years ago in her young life?

She shook her head, threw her hand back so it grazed or hit Enrico in some way to gain a little bit of his attention, and she walked forward with brisk movement.

"Heinkel!?" she heard Enrico snap, most likely because of her hitting him in his arm. Anderson even turned to look back at the children be brought with him, and his face appeared puzzled for only a moment before he stood and smiled. Heinkel stopped at his side, and she gazed up at him, her profile was blank, but her big, dark blue eyes were wild with determination. She silently asked him something that no one else in this room could pick up on.

"Goo ahead Heinkel," Anderson said with a nod and kind smile.

With a small grunt and nod of her head she looked to the girl on the ground. She slowly walked towards the crying girl, and kneeled on both knees. The floor was cold on her bare knees, and Heinkel pulled her skirt around her legs as she sat on her hip, reaching out to the girl, who jerked at Heinkels motion, causing Heinkel to cease for only a moment before her hand reached the girls face, and pushed her dark bangs out of her eyes.

The girls face was innocent looking and round. She looked terrified again and Heinkel attempted to give the smile that Anderson gave Enrico and she. "Shh. It's okay," she said, still pushing the hair out of her face. Heinkel, with her free hand, placed it on her own chest. "Heinkel. Hen-in-kell," she said and pronounced and then pointed to the girl, raising her brows as if asking without voicing it, what her name might be.

Enrico, at this time thanks to being smacked by Heinkel, half followed her to the cell, and now stood at Anderson's side, his book no longer opened. His hand reached up to grab the bottom of Anderson's jacket. Enrico felt Anderson raise his hand, and place it on his head of light blonde hair, slicked back with water.

"Ya— Yumiko," the girl sniffled out. Heinkel and Anderson smiled while Enrico's face remained blank as he watched.

Heinkel then nodded and scooted herself closer to the girl, who now did not resist or jerk at the sudden movements. The doctor, this whole time, his face changed and became animated quite a lot. Enrico took noticed. It went from shocked, to puzzled, to….. Perhaps annoyed? But when he, the doctor saw that Heinkel aimed and moved to remove the straight jacket, is when he stepped in.

"Sorry girl, I have to remove that. I advise yoou do not until shee is back in an contained area," he said. Heinkels gaze snapped up at him.

"I tink ah can manage," Heinkel said at him as she tugged at the straps. "Yumiko is not dangerous. She is only a little…. confused," she finished as she managed to get one strap undone.

The doctor went to protest, but Anderson caught him, "Ah think it is allrigt," he said and motioned with his head for the doctor to follow him. "Noow, lets talk aboout what wee shall doo with Yumiko…."

Enrico remained at the door to watch Heinkel and now Yumiko, Heinkel having more straps undone and slipping the white jacket off of Yumiko, viva like a shirt someone would put on. He shook his head slightly now, leaned on the door frame and popped open his book again.

_Once upon a time…._ he thought as he read.

* * *

_End Chapter VI._

(Random Note: H.I.M really speaks to me when and if I write at the same time when listening to the band. 'N surry: ah have 'ad 'n cold.)


	7. Not Forgotten… They Forgot Something

_disclaimer::_ I do not own Hellsing or anything by Kohta Hirano.

**-Not Forgotten…. They Forgot Something.-**

It had been nearly six months since Yumiko was taken from that hospital back to Rome. Enrico, though reluctant at first, started to teach the girl Italian and some English, more Italian than English for she was catching onto the English faster than the Italian. He did not like the fact that this girl could learn as fast as him. It almost annoyed him, but none of those outbursts happened since that day.

Heinkel would stick to her side like glue and this aggravated him the same. Heinkel and he use to be shoulder to shoulder, hardly leaving ones side in the day. As the sun remained in the sky for shorter amounts of time, as the winter approached, Enrico started to become distant with them. As they walked, leaving their tracks in the lightly falling snow, Enrico would linger far behind, watching them. And then one day, he was not with them at all, only watching from a distance across the court yard, a new book tucked under his arm and the mist falling out of his nose in the cold air. It was normal for him; to be left alone. He was so use to it now he did not see it as a problem. He was also so sick of it.

Ever since the day he was taken away from his home, he made his vow there to Father Anderson. He wanted to show people that he could be better than what he was made out of. He wanted to rise above them all, look down on them and then spit in the eye of the ones who dare doubted him. He was starting to hate people more and more now. Nothing was different from home. It was the same. Father Anderson said that there are different places than what he came from. He still did not see it because he was still alone. Father Anderson was wrong.

Now, he truly did not need anyone.

Today was his birthday. He didn't care. The last two or three in his home, they forgot. The one servant girl made him cupcakes those last few, and then a month after his birthday; he did get a sketch pad from his father. It was unwrapped and still had a price tag on it……….. oh well. He figured that this was just another year, and his birthday was easily forgotten. So he opened his book, after brushing off the stone bench, sat, and started to read again.

He heard the crunching of snow behind him, and he did not look up from his book. Those foot steps were heavy, so he knew it to be Father Anderson.

"Enrico, why doon't ya go and find Heinkel n' Yumiko?" he asked.

Enrico said nothing, and Father Anderson did not indulge. He did sit next to the young boy, leaning his elbows on his knees. They sat like this, a boy reading, a priest seated and watching children, for some time before Father Anderson did lean back and pulled something out of his coat and placed it on the stone bench between them. Enrico half looked at it from the corner of his eye. It was neatly wrapped and adorned a yellow bow, the paper in which this thing, this gift was wrapped in, was dark blue.

"It's ya burthday. Rite?"

Enrico gave a heavy sigh before he did look at Father Anderson and smiled kindly at him. "Nine years old Teacher," he said and reached for the gift, lifting it and placing it in his lap. He predicted another book on art. He did not mind that at all. "Thank you Father Anderson. Can I open it now?" he asked, looking to Father Anderson, his eyes somewhat puppy like.

"Aye!" He said and leaned back to watch him tear into one end, slipping a book with a leather back, the pages gold and a blue ribbon for a book mark. Engraved in gold there was the catholic cross.

"Thank you again," Enrico said as he let his hands fondle the book, turning the cover over to peer inside. "This is a great gift Father Anderson," he said and looked to him, "the only one that means something to me in a while," and gazing to the shining leather.

Enrico did not see the sad frown on Father Anderson's lips. It was depressing to hear these things from a child's mouth. It was like he was already old. He's smile did return when Enrico looked back at him, smiling himself. "Woould you like somethin' ta eat? Lets goo tou the kitchen before ya catch a cold," Father Anderson said standing and brushing off his legs, little Enrico doing the same, tucking the new book under his arm along with the one he had been reading.

----

"Oh no Yumiko! Not that!" Heinkel shrieked promptly before there was a great clatter heard from the kitchen. Enrico winced.

"Oh! I'm so sorry Heinkel! Forgive me! I didn't mean to!" Yumiko's broken English voice rang out and Father Anderson gave an amused chuckle.

"Bah! No need! Spilt milk!" Heinkel chimed back. "Hurry! We haven't all day! And we gotta get this done before the nuns show up and find us!"

"But do you think he'll like it? It looks really bad!"

"Oh he better! We've been slaving away for about an hour!"

"Ummm…. It called for only half of what you have in there for cocoa….. It'll be bitter!"

A pause….

"He likes decadent things! Trust me Yumiko, it'll be fine, he'll love it." There was more clattering after that, and Enrico was still wincing as Anderson gave him a pat on the back.

"It's alrite Enrico," Father Anderson whispered as he lightly pushed him forward.

He could only imagine what was happening in there… he did peak his head around the door-less kitchen to see what was all about happening in there. His left eye twitched slightly at the mess. It looked like a storm had blown the kitchen to shambles. There were at least four huge pans soiled with mud looking stuff. Eggs were smashed on the floor, and Yumiko's head had flour all over the top of her head (making her look like a makeup artists with the makeup theater departments last desperate attempts to make a stage character appear older), but both girls wore aprons and were dashing about frantically. He was guessing a cake by the looks of things, but he could be wrong with the sent that the oven was giving off. As he looked up amongst the hanging pots and pans there was smog present. He remained there, peering at them until he did swing himself into the kitchen, and he couldn't turn back into the hall to escape for Father Anderson's frame took up the whole doorway.

The two girls had not yet noticed them, so Enrico stood there and Father Anderson stepped in, placing his hands on Enrico's shoulders before clearing his throat, causing Yumiko to promptly drop the now empty batter of whatever she was making, and have a shocked appearance of a cat caught.

"Yumiko! Didn't I warn you to watch yourself?!" Heinkel barked, for she was on a stool on her tip toes, peering over a cook book that was in a book stand on the far end of the counter. She was still too short to reach the tall counter on her own, so this stool was a great help.

Yumiko still didn't say a thing for some seconds before she managed to wave at Father Anderson and Enrico. "Ha—hello! Um…"

Heinkel turned on this seeing the two and stood, not moving as Yumiko attempted to finish, her gaze slightly shocked as well and Father Anderson chuckled.

"Um…. Happy birthday?" Yumiko managed to say and break a smile on her nervous face, tucking one toe to the inside of her other foot.

-----

The cookies….. They were not good, not at all. Yumiko knew it. Heinkel chose to ignore it. Heinkel measured out the ingredients incorrectly, because there was far too much cocoa in them, and they were bitter, but also salty. The edge of cookies crispy, and they were flat.

Both girls sat there with these huge, overly wide smiles on their faces…. They looked like they were in pain. Yumiko had desperately attempted to shake all the flour out of her hair and Heinkel had a smear of something on her cheek.

_Epic failure,_ was all he thought as he took a bite into the cookie before him. He took a swig of milk as he then swallowed. "Thank you both," he said with a smile. Glancing over at Anderson, he saw that all of his cookies were gone already.

"That was exemplary, Yumiko 'n Heinkel. Ah enjoyed 'em," he said with a smile. "Thank-ya."

All three children paled at the same time because they all knew how bad they really were, ate them, yet Anderson did not even flinch as he took a bite out of them. One could tell that all three saw that as something amazing. It left them all temporarily speechless before Heinkel piped up, "Thank you Father Teacher Anderson! We tried our best!" and in reality they did.

Enrico was still having trouble showing it, but he smiled his fake smile that showed he was pleased, the nasty tasting cookie was still in his mouth, but he said nothing as he found it hard to swallow. Yumiko took notice, her face slightly disappointed but nevertheless she held a smile.

It was kind of him to attempt to be nice and polite. Either she or that other started to notice that Enrico was cold and…. stuck up at times. It was not voiced, but Yumiko felt that one time it should be and would be voiced…. Politely or rudely it would get out one time on how he treats them in general.

_End Chapter VII._

_-_

(Note To Readers:: Hey readers, can you please tell me how I am doing? I am not in any means or ways holding ransom for reviews, just wanna get a feel of what I need to do, keep doing, or might do later on down the road of this story. You could also freely express yourself in an email. I do not really care how you give input. Just tell me if you want to see something, expect something, are sick of it, love it, or like it. Please feel free to express yourself, I'd like to hear what you've got to say!

I'm also finding it a little harder to write now and am also a bit busy, though as one military man taught me: "No excuse sir!" So I'm not making any. I apologize for the extremely long wait as well, am still writing as best as I can and hope you all enjoy it anyhow as the writing comes. Again, sorry for the wait.)


End file.
